


The Perfect Girlfriend

by cicak



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Canon-Typical Humour, F/F, Fisting, Heatwave, Holtz builds things and Erin loves it, Puns & Word Play, Sex Toys, Strap-Ons, autobondage, kinda breaks the rule of, mind-controlled sex toys, never fuck the robot, the filthiest thing I've ever written, the perks of dating an engineering genius, which is fucking saying something let me tell you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicak/pseuds/cicak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What is it?” Erin asks, fingering the contraption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Girlfriend

It’s July, and there’s a heatwave in New York. 

Summer in New York is always a sticky, disgusting mess, where the background level of grime gets turned up to 11, and it feels like four hundred years of bad decisions and inadequate pollution laws are personally stuck in your pores. Erin’s been here for a long time now, but it’s never felt like this. It’s as if this year Satan managed to find another setting on that dial, dredged the river for an extra level of sticky, wet filth to adhere to her.

After the first few days of chasing metaphorical ghosts rather than physical ones, including three separate callouts to a skyscraper that kept setting things on fire (turns out it was just badly designed), they made the executive decision as business owners and took the phone off the hook, and settled down to wait it out.

“It’s hot”, Abby moans from her place underneath the fan. Her voice vibrates like she’s a B-movie alien demanding to see the leader. It’s likely it’s on purpose because she giggles afterwards.

“It’s so hot” Erin agrees. She’s lying prone on the lovely cool concrete floor, but she is being inconvenienced by her three dimensions. There’s always a part of her that isn’t cool, and is sweating for the rest of her. Currently she’s pressed face down, but her back is sticky beneath her tank top. She abandoned her bra hours ago. “I just want a concrete sandwich, is that too much to ask? Or a freezer. Or a polar vortex. Anything. I’ll give the sun anything if it will just stop.”

There’s a scream, and then Patty appears, furious from where she has been drowning herself in the shower. “How are we out of cold water? Is that even possible? This entire city is possessed, I swear.”

“Don’t swear” Erin says, idly. “Come join me on the concrete, it’s so nice. Its nice concrete. We won’t run out of cold concrete.”

“Bow before me! Bring me ice cream!” Abby intones into the fan, obviously not listening to anything anyone else is saying, hands spread towards the sky light.

“Get it yourself”, Erin says, rolling over and sighing when her back touches the floor. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.”

“Kevin!” Abby shouts into the fan. “I need ice cream!”

“Where is it?” he replies. “I can’t see it!”

“The freezer!”

“Right, yeah. I didn’t look there.”

He appears with a couple of pints of vanilla halo-top and Erin is stopped from her need to shout at him for buying that low-cal shit again but instead pauses and squints at him, wondering if it’s possible to sweat yourself into hallucinations. “Are...you wearing a sweater vest? In this weather?”

He shrugs. “This is what everyone wears for July back home. July’s the cold month for us, so when I moved here I was sure to pack for all the seasons.” He looks so proud of himself and she wants to give him a sticker for having an original thought, but it’s too hot for being understanding right now.

“Okay, well if you pass out please do it towards the couch alright?” she says, snottily, and runs the ice cream tub down her body and groans in pleasure.

“Someone needs to go get Holtzmann”, Abby says, eventually. “She’ll die of dehydration up there in the reactor farm, especially if the water’s on the fritz.”

No one moved.

“I went last time” Patty says. “I haven’t recovered. I’ll never be the same.”

“I’ll go.” Erin says. “I need to ask her something anyway.”

It’s so hot upstairs in Holtzmann’s lab that Erin wants to turn away immediately, give her up, seal the whole place off, but there is movement here so she’s probably not died just yet. 

She picks her way through piles and piles of weird, borderline illegal junk until she finds Holtzmann in the centre of a vortex of standing fans, looking like some kind of cyberpunk high priestess commanding the technology to do her bidding. She’s wearing just her underwear, sexy in its practicality, and Erin really wants to climb into that circle of fans and touch her. 

So she does, and Holtz loves it, the way she always does. She kisses with her whole body, throws her soul into it and usually, like, 99% of the time, Erin is extra into it because Holtz is so into it, they’re this feedback loop of sexual desire and excellent compatibility.

This time, when Erin gets her hands on Holtz’s hips, thumbs tucked under the waistband of her underwear her fingers burn, her skin is so warm and dry, she feels like kindling, and Erin wants to rub her up until she catches fire. She loves it, loves it so much, would be so into it if it wasn’t for the way she feels so physically disgusting from days of unrelenting sweat and uncomfortable naps on hard floors.

Holtz touches her and Erin feels like an oil slick, just a puddle of sweat, but not in the hot, marathon sex way. She feels like she’s _oozing_. 

“Okay no, no, it’s too hot,” she says, jerking away.

“Yeah baby, it’s so hot, hot as the fucking _sun_ ” Holtz babbles, before her brain catches up.

“No, stop, I can’t do this” Erin says, firmly, and Holtz drops her hands, and steps back, holding them up. She looks unsure, unhappy. Sweat streaks down her face.

“Sorry, sorry,” Erin says, “I just feel so gross. I can’t get clean, and we’re out of cold water anyway according to Patty. I can’t feel sexy when I feel like I’m detoxing every bad thing I’ve ever touched.”

Holtz turns arounds, and starts rummaging. “Okay, I can deal with this. I can fix this.”

Erin frowns. “You can fix this? Okay no, please don’t blow up the sun. Don’t argue! I know you could do it, I’ve heard you talk in your sleep.”

* * *

The next day, the heat has yet to break, and Erin is fast running out of concrete. Patty and Abby have gone to Patty’s Uncle’s funeral parlour, on the promise that if they drive the hearses they can have an hour in the body freeze. They invited Erin, but even the thought of lovely lovely cold wasn’t enough to tempt her to put clothes on.

She’s dozing, head pillowed on Kevin’s abandoned sweater vest, when something hits her on her stomach. 

Holtz drops down onto her heels, grinning.

“What is it?” Erin asks, fingering the contraption. It is pleasingly cold to the touch and looks a bit like a black funnel filled with silicon waves.

“It’s the Coolilingus 3000. It hasn’t got twelve settings, but it’s guaranteed to freeze your mind.”

Erin sits up and looks at it closer. “You built me a cooling sex toy?”

Holtz does fingerguns, eyebrow cocked. “I programmed it myself and everything.” 

Erin turns it over in her hands. It isn’t like any sex toy she’s ever seen before, but at the same time it isn’t making her want to bolt. It looks inviting, if moulded rubber and sillicon can look inviting.

“This is the nicest thing you’ve ever built for me. That includes all the weapons, by the way.”

“So you going to try it?” Holtz waggles her eyebrows. “If I can’t touch you, I should at least be able to watch.”

“How radioactive is it?” Erin asks, giving a little sideways look, but she’s already taking her pants off as she says it.

The Coolilingus 3000 fits over her entire vulval area with ease, fits so well there’s even a loose seal so she can have her hands free if she wants. There’s a button on the bottom, and when Erin pushes it, she gasps.

“Is this?” she stutters out.

“Me? Yeah. I programmed it how I would, you know. I figure, go with what you know works. Just me between your thighs, with ice for a tongue.”

It is incredible, the best thing Erin has felt since these heatwave started, definitely since they ran out of the good ice cream. Each stroke is perfect, the twist of the pseudotongue and the perfect amount of pressure to keep her spiralling up and up through all the muggy levels of arousal, up past all her body hang ups until none of that even matters anymore. There’s also a hard edge, and oh god, its _fingers_ , how the fuck did she do that, they nudge inside her and press and she comes almost violently, her hands grasping out for Holtz’s and she crosses her ankles, pressing the toy against her, cooling her from the inside out until the aftershocks might as well be chills. 

She sags down against the cool concrete, still holding Holtz’s hands and twitching a little.

“I managed to fix the water as well” Holtz says, pleased note in her voice.

“Oh my god” Erin gasps, as if gripped by another orgasm at the thought of being _clean_. “I love you so much.”

* * *

The heat breaks the next morning with a wonderfully impressive storm, and then the city snaps back from the weird, otherworldly hellscape of the heatwave to the usual level of insane humidity and barely-comfortable heat. They go back to work, and Erin and Holtzmann go back to their regularly scheduled post-haunting sex routine. It started out as a celebratory thing that involved tequila, takeout and heavy make outs after capturing something particularly exciting and rare. That was fine, understandable, eureka moments are some of the best aphrodisiacs for scientists. It’s the other times that are more interesting. Like when they returned from the worst kind of haunting, with a violent, physical fight at the heart of it that had left them all exhausted, Abby with a sprained ankle and their car with four flat tires, and all so covered with ectoplasm no cab would take them, and having to walk, exhausted, back across the city. Getting back into the building and Erin not even thinking as she lets herself into Holtz’s shower, pressing her against the cool tiles and kissing her as the water sluiced away the gross, slippery residue from their bodies, until Holtz has her legs wrapped around Erin’s hips and they’re grinding together and it’s so good, not enough to come but somehow perfect, that perfect level of arousal that means Erin’s whole skin is a hotline to the throb of her clit, and they’re so tired, but it’s still better than most sex Erin has ever had.

Then not long after, they’re sleeping together, actually sleeping together in the freezing, unheated fire house, snuggled together after Erin rejects the nuclear powered bedwarmer Holtz made for her, and Holtz replied ‘well, why don’t you just get in here with me?’, and then they’re together, somehow. Erin gets used to waking up with Holtz tracing equations onto her back, recognises Breit-Wigner formula when it’s written against her clit by her tongue, even gets used to finding bits of scrap metal in her bed. It’s easy, being with Jillian Holtzmann, in a way she never really thought it would be with anyone.

The sex is really good as well. Inventive, but maybe that should be expected when you’re with an engineer, a really creative engineer who routinely breaks the laws of physics and who thinks your body is the most fascinating raw material she’s ever come across.

Erin also likes it, likes to be held down, to be experimented on, respects the scientific method so that they repeat each experiment multiple times so that the data can be good. 

She’s twisted up like a pretzel one night, some kind of auto-bondage that Holtz saw on the internet and it’s insanely good. They’re wrapped up in each other, and it’s almost perfect, it’s like that time against the shower wall, but instead of that indirect stimulation being enough, it’s driving her insane. She’s so turned on that it hurts, but there’s no relief in sight.

“Just a bit more, oh god” she pants. “Just touch me once, I’ll come, I promise.”

“I don’t have three hands!” Holtz grounches from somewhere by her kneecap, and then pauses. “Hmmm,” she says, and moves something so that they disengage and presses her thumb hard right on the centre of Erin’s clit and sure enough she comes. Couldn’t miss it. Everyone in the borough probably knows.

A week later, they’re doing it again and Erin is so frustrated and begging, and then there’s another hand right there, rubbing her clit but not enough to make her come, and this time Holtz cackles that gleeful laugh that means a project hasn’t exploded when she thought it would.

“What is that?” Erin grits out, so close she doesn’t even know if she’s speaking English anymore. 

“It’s my third hand” Holtz replies, glee in her voice. “I realised that I forgot to calculate your stimulation level correctly and this won’t work unless you can get some direct clitoral pressure, so I threw it together. Now, the battery isn’t great on it, so are you ready for the finale?”

It takes Erin a week to stop feeling aftershocks, which shouldn’t even be _possible_ , but she learned to accept far more improbable things than incredible sex recently, so she resolves to lean in and enjoy it.

* * *

There’s other things, other little sex presents that make their way into what starts as a drawer and quickly progresses to a chest. Holtz measures her for a harness, which surprises Erin. “I like to get fucked” Holtz says and winks. “I’m still toppy as hell though, so make sure you focus on your core this week when you’re at the gym”. 

They go through seven harnesses until Holtz declares it to be perfect, and then immediately makes one for herself and fucks Erin through the mattress with a bright purple dildo that moves with them, doing its best to help out.

In the afterglow Erin listens to Holtz describing how she’s going to improve it, maybe include some cams, really get some tentacle-like action in there. 

* * *

“I made you a present”, Holtz says, dropping into her lap where Erin is trying to catch up with all the JHEAp she’s missed since she got fired. “Happy Birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday until March” Erin says. “What is it?”

“It’s a surpriiiise” Holtz says, and grinds down, and okay, it’s definitely a sex thing. A wearable sex thing. Excellent.

“Get on the bed” Holtz husks, and Erin does, stripping off and throwing herself down onto the stack of pillows, the pile of journals abandoned in favour of something far more interesting. 

Holtz pulls her sweats down, and -

“What in all holiness is that?” Erin says, part shocked, part fascinated.

“So, they’re all great right? But I was thinking and thought, imagine if we could use them all together. So -” she uses both hands to gesture to her crotch. “I call it the perfect girlfriend.”

Erin puts her glasses on to get a better look. There’s their usual perfect harness, and then there’s everything else. The Coolilingus 2000 is mounted with wires running from it to two appendages, the cam-assisted helper dildo and the third hand. 

Holtz pulls a hoop that looks a bit like a crown of circuit boards from where it’s tucked under one arm. It looks like a smaller version of the mind-manipulator helmet Abby was wearing when she first met them in their lab, all those months ago.

Holtz is talking again, fixing the hoop onto her head. “So, I’ve been thinking for a while, maybe we could combine all of these together? And well, modular tech is trendy, so I figured I’d give it a go. Do you want the hand or the cock?”

“The hand” Erin says, mouth dry at the thought.

“Oh good.” Holtz says. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

They’d tried fisting, but it hadn’t worked for them. Holtz has lovely hands, but they don’t bend quite the right way, and she couldn’t get her palm past Erin’s pelvis, so they gave up. It was good enough with just all the fingers, but oh, Erin does really want it, wants the symbolism of having a whole hand wedged inside her, touching everything.

“The loop lets me control it as if it was my own hand” Holtz says. “Oh and I can fuck you with the fist as the dildo fucks me, if that’s something you think you’d be into? Might have to take it slow, but I’d be into it. Broadened horizons and all that.”

“Nrrgh”, Erin says, throwing off her glasses. “Come here right now, I need to kiss you, you are impossible, how do you exist, I love you _so much_.”

It takes a while for them to sort it all out, get the Coolilingus 2000 running right so that the Third Hand’s temperature was perfect, just a shade cooler than Erin’s overheated, over-aroused skin. 

“So you can tell the difference when I do this” Holtz says, as explanation, and hooks three of her lovely, creative fingers right up into Erin’s cunt, spreads them wide, and Erin’s eyes roll so hard she feels the strain in her _back_. 

The Third Hand takes Holtz’s place eventually, when Erin is nice a ready, and oh, Erin’s always wanted this, she can feel the palm curling in on itself as the fingers clench, and then there’s a tiny push from Holtz’s hips and Erin almost screams, but no sound comes out, she’s just overwhelmed because that is a fist inside her, and her girlfriend’s hips right up against her hipbones, and she’s about to get fucked by a robot hand, controlled by Holtz, who’s getting fucked in a way that is best optimised for them both and it is fucking incredible.

Holtz has her face scrunched up, obviously thinking hard at the crown she’s wearing. “I’m gonna turn on the dildo now, so hold still. If I make any sudden moves it’ll disengage, kinda like the charger on your laptop okay? So don’t be worried”, and then she’s braced over Erin and kissing her and whining low in her throat the way she always does when Erin first slides inside her, the way she gets off on getting fucked, and then Holtz is rocking forward with it and the power Erin can feel in Holtz’s thighs feels like it might be too much, but the harness does some calculations and turns it into the perfect, tiny movement that scrapes the synthetic knuckles against Erin’s g-spot and god, the English language wasn’t designed for this. Its perfect, so perfect, and Erin can feel random parts of her body coming online, firing weirdly, her toenails, her left nipple, her C4 vertebrae. Just these tiny orgasms centred in weird places, as if the fist inside her was gathering all the pleasure in her neurons and chivvying it along, running it down her nerves towards her core, then down until she’s got her hands in Holtz’s hair and is yell-panting at her to fuck her harder, fuck her with her fist, shouting yes, yes, yes, until Holtz kisses her and it’s all bite and affection and then Erin’s clamping down and her head is rolling back and she thinks she might be having convulsions, she can’t control her body, the orgasm is too strong. The hand disengages but keeps rubbing, and she rides it out, and in the distance, somewhere on another plane of existence, she can hear Holtz grunting and keening and the slick, obscene sound of her getting fucking pounded by her own mind in the most perfect configuration of pleasure the human body can conceive of.

“I got you sweaty”, Holtz says, as they lie there, covered in bodily fluids and surrounded by the disassembled perfect girlfriend. The straps of the harness are hanging loose around Holtz’s hips, and Erin has her fingers caught in them, worrying them between her fingers.

“You did” Erin says, low and quiet, brushing a curl off Holtz’s face. “I never object to getting sweaty with you, you know that? It’s basically my favourite way to do it.”

They’re quiet again, exhausted and content, Erin’s fingers against Holtz’s lips in a way that is softly intimate. 

“Happy birthday” Holtz whispers. “For March, I mean. I didn’t get you anything. Mostly because I didn’t know you, but if I had, I would have given you something amazing. Something even more amazing than this.”

She writes something on Erin’s hip with the tip of her finger, slow and careful, and Erin recognises it immediately, and she smiles, and says it back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Artifactrix, who helped a lot by brainstorming this through with me, and for once again helping to inspire the filthiest thing I've ever written.  
> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://cicaklah.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/chicketychak) where I post a lot of pictures of my cats as well as talk about how I have fucking levelled up as a lesbian after watching this movie.


End file.
